An Emerald Dream
by Alex Ultra
Summary: Just because he's neither one thing nor the other, doesn't mean he should give up on either. If anything, it's even more reason to embrace both! But, for now, he's all set to discover his place in the world, and where better to start than his parents' footsteps. Or even hoofsteps? Alicorn!Harry Alicorn!Lily
1. Unicorns

Disclaimer: Are we really still doing these? I don't own the series portrayed here, just the idea and storyline, which may or may not coincide with the official canon of the portrayed series.

A/N: Sooo I've actually been sitting on this for a while... because I got stuck somewhere. (Isn't that always the story? Bah!) I'm going to need to re-think the stuck-part a bit (damn you, lack of planning! **shakes fist** ), but I feel confident uploading this much, at least.

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Ch. 01 - Unicorns

* * *

When Harry was very young there were a lot of things he didn't know. He didn't know how or why his parents weren't there for him, indeed didn't really know what having parents was like. He didn't know why his Aunt and Uncle didn't like him very much, nor why they allowed Dudley to hurt him any time he wanted.

Really, Harry didn't know very much at all. It could be forgiven, of course, he was only five years old after all. Still, just because he didn't know of them didn't mean they weren't there. Didn't mean they wouldn't matter.

And one such thing helped him out of a spot one day...

Harry raced along the sidewalks of Surrey, hoping to outpace his cousin who, along with his friends from school, Piers and Colton, were chasing Harry quite vigorously.

Neighbors thought this a game of tag, but in truth Dudley had gotten bored and decided to beat up his cousin; he just wanted to beat him up, nothing more, nothing less. Enlisting his friends, he started chasing the boy around town. Perhaps if the chase was fun enough or lasted long enough Dudley might forget about the abusive part of his intent, but at the moment the larger boys were simply trying to keep up.

All said, however, Harry wasn't really doing too well either. He was going quite well as far as running went, wasn't likely to run out of steam anytime soon, but he _was_ running out of Surrey. Perhaps it was a smaller town than he'd thought when he and his cousin had initially been allowed outside, perhaps he'd simply chosen his directions wrong and gone to the edge of town by accident. Whatever the case, as he passed house by house, all lined in a row with cars in front, sometimes with fences and other times with children's toys in the yard, he found himself dreading the moment when the road ran out, which he could see coming straight ahead.

If he stopped or turned around, Dudley and his friends would catch up to him and probably beat him up. He couldn't find a convenient side road where he could keep running because, unfortunately, this _was_ the side road, and he'd apparently chosen wrongly as it simply went straight into what appeared to be a monstrous wood.

And if he kept going into the wood he would be slowed down and they would catch him. He knew they would; he was fast in a straight line, but he hadn't yet learned to climb and jump very well, so scrambling in the underbrush, which would be new to him to begin with wouldn't work so well for him.

Still, he couldn't stop and there was nowhere else for him to go so, with Dudley shouting in the background, Harry dove into the frightening depths.

It wasn't as bad as he'd initially feared, but after several moments of fighting the forest Harry heard Dudley shouting again, and this time the voice was much, much closer.

Hide.

If he couldn't run, he could hide. Maybe Dudley wouldn't find him if he dove beneath a bush, maybe Dudley would think he'd kept going, maybe maybe maybe.

So he dove for cover. Being so young he hadn't chosen the best hiding spot, but Dudley was just as young and without his friends would easily have simply kept on going.

But Dudley _did_ have his friends with him, and it was Colton who found him, yelling and shouting and throwing apart the brush, "Over here!"

"What?"

"He's hiding I bet!"

"Find him, then."

"Is this him? Look, it's that stupid hair."

"Let me look! No that's just a stupid animal." Dudley punctuated this by kicking said animal in the ribs, eliciting a surprised, frightened squeak. "Come on, maybe he'll get lost. We can play that game I told you about."

"What's it about?"

"Dunno. Better'n chasing the Freak in the woods. C'mon, I'll get mum to make sandwiches." And so the three boys left, comparing the various video games they had played, leaving Harry confused and alone.

Not wanting to take any chances, Harry stayed where he was until he couldn't hear his tormentors anymore. Only then did he poke his head above the brush, wondering why they'd stopped.

They'd said something about an animal? But then Dudley had plainly kicked him in the ribs, so they had clearly seen him.

If he had been a bit older and more paranoid, he might have suspected some kind of trick, but at that moment he was just happy to have gotten away lightly. Sore ribs were better than sore everything else.

Cautiously he crawled out from under the bush. When something caught on a branch he reached back in an attempt to pry it loose and, finding something poking against his back he tried to pull it away.

Unfortunately all that accomplished was to twist him sideways, sending him face first into the forest floor.

After trying a couple more times to work himself free, he finally just yanked himself out of the brush, no longer caring about the amount of noise he was making. With a shout of "Let me GO!" he tumbled free, landing in a heap on his side which protested the treatment more than he was ready for, his rib throbbing in momentary pain.

After a moment of calming down Harry turned to investigate the bush to try and see what had been holding him back.

But when he looked, all he saw was twigs and some balls of fluff that might have once been feathers. Carefully he reached out to pick one up, to investigate, but the sight of his hand stopped him.

 _What happened to his hand!?_

It had turned black and was all lumpy, not to mention quite large. It was so unexpected that for several moments he didn't even notice that he was standing on all fours.

He had turned into an animal! And there he'd been hoping Dudley had simply been going daft. He wondered for a moment how he would explain it to his aunt and uncle, but shook his head. He wouldn't be _able_ to explain anything like this, it was impossible!

Turning around, he tried to get a good look at himself. With a bit of difficulty he was able to find his tail, right where he expected it to be. Happily, he gave it a swish, not quite sure why he was happy about it, but also far too young to really be concerned about it.

And why should he be? It wasn't as though he _felt_ strange. Rather he felt very normal, as though he'd been like this all his life and just hadn't realized it.

Still, he _had_ changed and he _was_ different, and despite feeling normal he knew without a doubt that suddenly turning into a funny looking horse was _not_ normal. It was actually quite Freaky.

And that brought him back to thinking about his family. They wouldn't be likely to listen to him if he told them it was an accident. They probably wouldn't even believe it was him at all! After all, who would believe some animal who came up claiming to be your nephew? Not most people, that was for sure! Maybe Harry didn't know much, but he did know that his aunt and uncle didn't like anything that wasn't normal or was even a little bit freaky.

So he couldn't tell them, or even let them find out. If they did he'd probably never be let outside again. Or maybe they'd sell him to a farm or something. Honestly he wasn't sure if he'd prefer that or not. Living with the Dursleys, or as an animal on a farm... it was a surprisingly tough decision, but as he didn't know very much about farms he decided he'd probably best stay with the Dursleys if possible.

That, however, would be a problem if he couldn't change back to normal somehow. Animals, or at least horses didn't live in peoples' houses.

Deciding to put it out of his mind until he couldn't avoid it any longer, Harry trotted around a bit to get a feel for his new self. Again he felt fairly normal. That is until he tried to run a short distance.

As soon as he tried to go a little faster than a slow trot, he awkwardly reared up on his hind legs and then twisted sideways, as his legs tried to run like a human and he ended up rolling in the dirt again, smashing his side again and pinching his back painfully. In addition to the pain of rolling in the dirt again, Harry had managed to roll into a bush and this time it was his _face_ that got caught on something.

"Oh come on!" He jerked his head back, only for _something_ to snag inexplicably painfully against his forehead, "Ow! Leggo!"

After thrashing mightily he managed to break free, rubbing his... horn? When did he get a horn? Well, whenever he got it, it felt a bit like he'd skinned it. Actually he was starting to get annoyed at all the scrapes and bruises he'd gotten in the last five minutes.

Maybe instead of trying to run on all fours, he could try to figure a way to change back? The trouble was that he had no idea how or why he'd changed in the first place.

Still, it couldn't hurt to try, so he tried. And tried, and tried some more. When that didn't work he started looking around for something that might have caused the change. Maybe there was something under that bush that'd caused it?

No luck there, and now he was starting to get a bit frustrated. What was he supposed to do now? He was getting hungry, and although he didn't get much at the Dursleys', at least with people food he knew _what_ to eat. Harry, unfortunately, didn't know very much about most animals, and horses were one of those animals.

They ate hay, didn't they? That was about the only thing he could think of, and as appetizing as that didn't sound, he didn't know where to find any. And asking someone was out. He didn't know how people would react to a horse coming up and asking for hay, but he didn't think they'd just give him some.

Hay came from farms, which helpfully was also where most horses came from. And didn't people ride horses? He didn't fancy carrying anyone around, especially someone like Dudley. He wasn't sure he'd be strong enough for it, anyway.

Still, he didn't really have anything else to go on, so, with nothing else to do, Harry turned and started walking, remembering to stay on all fours so as not to fall on his face again.

After a while of exploring the woods near Surrey, Harry had gained a new appreciation for roads. Sure, they were confusing and didn't make a lot of sense sometimes, but at least they told you where you _could_ go. After only a few minutes in the forest Harry was pretty sure that he'd gone in circles at least a few times. And now he couldn't ask for directions even if he wanted to, not because horses couldn't talk, because he could, but because he couldn't find Surrey, or indeed even a road that might _lead_ to Surrey. Or London. He'd heard somewhere that all roads lead to London, or something like that.

Boy was _that_ a lie! If he ever got out of this forest he'd find the person who said that and tell him for _sure_ that not _all_ roads lead to London! Some just lead into a forest like this one.

So there.

In the meantime, though, not only was his tummy rumbling, which was decidedly familiar, but it was getting dark, which _would_ have been familiar if he'd been in his cupboard at the time.

This forest was quite large, and empty, and so... quiet.

Having been raised in even a suburb of a city, Harry had never really heard silence before. Every once in a while a gush of wind would rattle the leaves in the trees above him, drawing his attention more and more as the daylight went away. He thought he heard an Owl in the distance, and the longer he was out among the trees the more he felt like he might be being watched. He kept turning around, only to realize that there was no one there, which just made him feel silly, except that he kept feeling it...

Unlike Dudley, he wasn't too scared to admit he was scared, he just preferred not to say it out loud, mostly because no one would care.

But there wasn't anyone to tell out here, so maybe it was okay to say out loud…

So, with a surprisingly shaky voice, he whispered… "I'm scared..."

His voice seemed to disappear rather softly into the growing dark. Hearing no response he looked longingly into the distance, maybe hoping someone might have heard him and would come to help... but no help came.

Not really keen on staying out in the open, where anything could get him when he couldn't see them coming, Harry backed up against a tree that had a bush growing at the base and settled down. He tucked his feathery back-arms against his sides (he didn't know the word for 'wings' yet, though if he had he would have been decidedly confused about having something normally had by birds when he was clearly a horse), and curled up.

He soon fell asleep right there, cold with a rumbling stomach, but, for whatever reason, it was one of the best nights' sleep he'd had in a long time. He dreamt of red.

* * *

The next day Harry remained equally lost, and equally alone in the woods. But he was feeling better; not just because of a good night's' sleep, but also because he woke up chewing a weed.

That didn't sound so nice but it had _tasted_ nice, far better than he'd have ever expected it to, and he found himself experimenting with what else he could find that might taste good. He had no idea about poisons except that Dudley had been told not to get into any of the chemicals under Aunt Petunia's sink (Harry had heard, but not been given this warning), and _still_ Dudley was hospitalized for drinking some liquid plumber... which Harry thought was rather cruel, who would liquify a plumber? But once he'd started with that one weed he found that he couldn't stop himself.

And despite having eaten many things that would be very poisonous to a human, his stomach was, by noon, actually quite happy. So far he'd had the best sleep he'd had in years, and had eaten better than he could ever remember having done, and he hadn't even been lost a whole day!

Maybe being an animal wasn't so bad, after all.

Still, he needed to try to find a way back. He was also getting quite thirsty.

Water came from the ground, right? Except when it rained, then it came from the sky. He knew water usually just came from the tap, but he didn't think there were many taps out among the trees, and if there _were,_ people would have probably already built their houses around them.

So he was left to find water on his own, without any real idea of where to look for it or why it might not be a good idea to drink water he found off the ground. Eventually he gave up on that and turned to chewing on especially fat leaves that _tasted_ like they might have water in them, like funny tasting lettuce. When it rained later that afternoon he tried catching it, but his mouth wasn't really big enough to catch very much of it, so he really just ended up very wet and cold. He did notice some of the run off gathering in tiny little streams, however, and managed to get a drink that way.

The next few days were much the same. He would sleep cold and alone, followed by a day of exploring his new environment. Food was plentiful, which was obvious now that he knew it just grew from the ground, and eventually he learned to follow the trails that rainwater left as it flowed away. But after so many days left out on his own, he was starting to feel lonely. He didn't really _want_ to be back with the Dursleys, but he was now missing having someone to talk to. The Dursleys weren't _good_ at it, but they were better than the animals Harry had found in his travels, who would either stare blankly at him until he stopped talking, or avoid him entirely. A couple animals screamed wildly at him, but he didn't think that counted as 'talking', no matter how often the Dursleys did something similar.

Indeed, the longer he was away, the more homesick he became. The problem was that he had no idea which way led to Surrey, and he _still_ hadn't managed to turn back into a person!

Then one afternoon, more than a week after he'd gotten lost in the forest, he caught a smell that was out of place in the forest, but which was very familiar to him. It smelled like Uncle Vernon's car!

Admittedly, it smelled more like that time Uncle Vernon's car broke down, but if it smelled like a car then that might mean there were people nearby!

Jumping over logs and crouching beneath low hanging branches, Harry hurried toward the smell, barely noticing the moments when he would use his back-arms to help keep himself stable after an especially large leap.

And then he was there. _He recognized this place!_

Well, sort of. It was a parking lot, but that was a lot more people-like than the trees, trees, and more trees that he'd been plodding around for the last week or more. Still, he was pretty sure he'd either found Surrey, or some farther-out part of London. He was so excited that he very nearly walked straight out to start asking for directions.

The sound of his hooves clapping on the pavement made him pause, however, as he looked himself over.

He couldn't go home like this. He was still an animal. And animals didn't live with people.

Dejected, Harry didn't even realize as he turned around and walked back into the forest, that someone had seen him.

The next few days were the worst. Afraid of losing it again Harry never ventured very far from the city he'd found. At some point he'd found a road sign which... well, which he couldn't read still, but it had a big 'S' on it, so he was pretty sure that meant 'Surrey'. He might have known the other letters if he puzzled on it long enough, but they hadn't learned in class how to put the letters together yet, and he didn't want to be seen, so that was as good as he was going to get.

And as he circled around the edges of civilization, he didn't realize that the people there had taken notice of him. He was lucky, then, that no one thought he was dangerous, else they might have called animal control. But, as they always do, rumors started to mill.

He spent increasingly lonely nights and frustrating days trying, harder and harder, to change back to normal. He was supremely comfortable in this form, but yet he begged the unanswering sky for help, to get back to his family. To be among _people_ again.

He tried harder and harder, at some point ecstatic when he realized that his efforts had resulted in his being able to move things with his mind, but it was a frustrated and desperate young colt who fell asleep, exhausted beyond measure, nearly two weeks after being chased out of Surrey.

For perhaps the first time since coming to the forest, Harry's sleep was unsettled. He dreamed of people, and he dreamed of people chasing him. He wasn't just any ordinary animal, he was a Freak! They didn't want him and they couldn't suffer to have him around! He dreamt of them chasing him, when all he wanted was to go back to normal, to be just a little boy again...

But he _couldn't_ be just a little boy again, not now, not ever. Because he _wasn't!_ He couldn't run far enough, he couldn't plead honestly enough, none of it would matter!

All he could do... was hide.

And when he awoke the next morning the forest was a little bit quieter, he was a little bit colder, and most importantly, his clothes were wet.

But they were _there_.

Surprised but joyful, Harry bounded out of the woods, careful to try to clean as much of the woods from his clothes and hair as he could, to make the best impression possible; he proudly stamped into Surrey, mindful that he needed to walk on only two legs, like a _boy_ and not like a _horse_.

Quickly, he found someone walking a dog along the streets. Agreeably it was a large black dog, it was only too bad it had brown highlights instead of green like his own had been.

"Excuse me..."

"Hmm? What is it?" The lady seemed nice. Nice enough, at least, to not have shouted at him yet. And her dog was _much_ nicer than any Aunt Marge had brought to see him (and chase him).

"Er, what, um, where is the Dursleys?" She seemed puzzled, so he elaborated. "'m lost."

"Dear boy, where have you been? Out in the woods? Look at you, you're all wet, you'll catch cold!"

"It's alright, I..." Quickly, not wanting to get in trouble, he made an excuse. "We were playing tag. I got lost. Do you know-" He didn't get to finish as the woman interrupted him, specifically by kneeling down and hugging him.

"You poor dear! You must have been so scared!" As she held him, the dog proceeded to lick his face, drowning out his protests. "Come with me and we'll get you dried up. Don't worry, we'll find your parents straight away. They must be so worried!"

So bewildered was he that it wasn't until much later that he told her that it was actually his aunt and uncle that he was looking for.

* * *

It was later that same day that Harry rode in Mrs. Willeson's car all the way to 'Number Four, Privetdrive', which was where his Aunt and Uncle lived. He'd had to tell Mrs. Willeson his Aunt and Uncles' names so she could look them up in 'the registry', but once he had she'd given him a 'bulownee' sandwich, called them up, and driven him there.

Surprisingly his aunt actually looked relieved to see him. He was far too young to think that maybe she was just acting, he'd half expected her to look all constipated when she saw him, but instead she looked happy. He was a little afraid when she told him off for 'running off like that', but seemed to take his apology at face value.

At least until Mrs. Willeson left. When that happened, and her car was safely around the corner, Aunt Petunia grew really quiet.

After several moments of quiet Harry was starting to fear that she was going to start shouting at him. But instead, she simply spoke quietly, "You've been gone for two weeks."

"I'm sorry." He felt it prudent to apologize again.

"Vernon thought you might not come back." So far apologizing seemed to be working! "I knew you would. Your mother sometimes disappeared for days at a time..."

His mother! "... A-aunt Petunia...?"

She didn't answer right away, instead continuing to look out the window, then she straightened. "Get to your room. I'll forget what happened this time, but don't go disappearing again, or else we'll have to call the police and they'll put you in a home. I'll call you for supper."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia." He turned to leave, but his curiosity, burning in his gut, got the better of him. "Aunt Petunia?"

"What is it?"

"My mother...?" Harry flinched when Aunt Petunia glared at him, but after several long seconds she seemed to deflate.

"Not now. Just... not now." She waved him off and Harry wisely decided to retreat.

That night there was a lot of shouting and Uncle Vernon finally decided to give him a bunch of new chores to make up for when he'd been gone, but it had been summer so no one really knew he had been gone other than the Dursleys themselves. Harry didn't get as much outside time the rest of the summer, but for the most part everything else went back to normal, and that was alright.

Although sometimes, when he knew he was alone in the house, or that all the Dursleys were asleep, Harry would practice changing back and forth between boy and animal in the solitude of his room.

When he was finally allowed outside again it was almost fall and he had turned six. Since he and Dudley were expected at school again his chores had to be cut back, and so long as they were all done Harry could do what he wanted _away_ from the house. Dudley still got it in his head to chase him, but Harry had gotten faster while Dudley had gotten slower, so it was getting to be almost easy to lose his larger cousin. And sometimes, when he did, he would hide away in the forest and... just stay a while.

His Aunt had said that his mother did so sometimes, was she like he was? Was she part animal, too? Harry assumed so, but then he didn't think that it would be strange for _her_ to be when his aunt wasn't. Perhaps in a few years he would wonder about that, but for now he didn't question it.

When winter came around Harry found that the cold didn't bother him much. Or at least nowhere near as much as Dudley; but then Dudley was bothered mightily by not having enough chips to last all weekend, and he complained _loudly_ when the satellite dish fell over and he couldn't watch his programs. Still, everyone else seemed to not like the cold and the wind, but while it seemed a bit nippy, Harry didn't see what the fuss was about.

Then again, Harry was used to being uncomfortable, and even if it _were_ cold it was still better to be outside rather than locked in his room.

His many forays were done in secret, of course, as he didn't want to be seen; but it would seem he wasn't as good at it as he thought he was, because one day Aunt Petunia held him back from going off to school. She'd sent Dudley off with Uncle Vernon, and held 'the boy' back.

Harry was sure that he was in trouble, but after several minutes and a hushed phone call, Aunt Petunia told him to come to the kitchen.

Feeling scared and dejected, Harry complied. Had he tracked mud in the house again? What might he have done wrong? Honestly he couldn't think of anything, but Aunt Petunia was an adult, and adults always seemed to know so much more than kids did.

It was a tense wait as Aunt Petunia looked him over, silent and judging. She seemed so stern and Harry stayed silent, hoping it was the right thing to do.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Aunt Petunia said "Change."

"Eh?"

"I know you can do it. Change."

Heart beating, Harry started edging backward. She knew! How had she found out? "Er, I-"

"Please..."

Harry stopped. He'd never heard his aunt sound so desperate before, so hopeful... Her hair had gone over her eyes, and she wasn't looking at him anyways, but she looked...

With a gulp, he changed, his forehooves landing on the linoleum with a distinctive 'cl-clop'; before he knew it, before he could even brace himself for what his aunt might do, she was suddenly on him, causing him to freeze.

He didn't know what to do! So he stayed put, slowly relaxing as his nerves un-tensed and he realized that Aunt Petunia was _crying_! He'd never seen her cry before! Not even for Dudley. Of course Dudley did enough crying on his own for all four of them, but this was new and Harry wasn't sure how to deal with it.

Should he pat her on the back? He thought he might, but then he realized that she was so much bigger than him that his foreleg wouldn't reach all the way around, so instead he sort of bumped her elbow a couple of times. That must not have worked because instead of calming down she got _louder_.

Bewildered but unwilling to do anything to make it even worse, Harry stood stock still as his back got wet with tears and his feathers got ruffled from Aunt Petunia mussing them. As if it weren't bad enough that his hair-mane was messy all the time!

Eventually she calmed down, backing away and standing on her own again, wiping her eyes and sniffling. Harry had never seen such an open display of emotion from an adult before. Sure, the girls at school sometimes cried, as did Dudley (a _lot_ ), but this was the first time he'd seen an adult do it, let alone Aunt Petunia!

"Err, Aunt Petunia?" He wasn't really sure what to say to her. Was she okay? That seemed a silly question. Why was she crying? He really wanted to know but felt maybe it wasn't the right time to ask. She, however, waved him off.

"I'm alright, just a moment." She blew her nose with a handkerchief, "I just... I miss..." She shook her head, as though trying to move her thoughts along, "You always looked so much like your father, I'd thought you might not have got enough of your mother, that she would be the last..."

"My mother? Was she like me?" Harry took a step forward in his eagerness, feeling a burning desire to know about his mother. About _either_ of his parents.

"Of course she was." She looked at him like she thought he might be stupid, "You didn't think you got it from your _father_ , did you?" She looked sour for a moment more as Harry drooped, his ears drawing back as he sat down on the floor. Then she sighed, "Actually, I suppose you would. _I'm_ no pony, why would Lily be? But I assure you, you're just like your mother. Albeit black and green rather than red and cream." She gave him a critical look-over, then she smiled, "Her favorite food was dandelions, by the way." Harry beamed at that, he liked dandelions too!

Harry remained silent as he hoped, waited for Aunt Petunia to tell him more about his mother. She didn't disappoint. Well, she _did_ , but she didn't. "I have... I have her things. Well, some of them. I'm sure the rest are either locked up or lost. But she left me her school trunk and journals before-" she gulped, as though unwilling to admit what she was going to say. "Before she died."

"Really?"

"Yes, and you're going to take them. You're going to keep them in your room or else Vernon or I will burn them. Understood?"

Harry flinched at the idea of his mother's things being burned. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good. I'll go fetch them."

Harry nodded, afraid to do anything that might make her change her mind, even though he had _sooo_ many questions. When she came back she was dragging a large trunk that Harry was fairly sure he wouldn't be able to move from his room if he wanted to!

Aunt Petunia started working on opening the lid, and Harry excitedly approached as it actually came up, eagerly hopping up to look inside.

Head swivelling rapidly, he tried to get in the whole sight at once, though he was a bit confused at the cloth that was covering everything. Aunt Petunia pulled that up to reveal… books. And letters, and some other things that slightly worried Harry.

"Um, Aunt Petunia? I can't read."

"Well then you'd best learn quickly, shouldn't you?" She sniffed, then shoo'd him back before closing the lid again. "I called the school, so they won't be expecting you today. I'm going to move this to your room. I expect you'll have everything cleaned up before Dudley or Vernon get home, and certainly _not_ allow Dudley to see any of it. I don't want him getting any ideas from those nasty books."

Harry could only nod, "Yes, Aunt Petunia."

"And certainly _don't_ let _either_ of them see you like _that_! Understand?"

The nodding was more energetic this time, Harry gulping as he imagined what his Uncle's reaction to that would be. "Yes, Aunt Petunia."

"Good. Go clean a space in your room." Harry quickly complied and by lunchtime Harry was safely in his room (under the stairs, of course), trying to puzzle through all the letters on each page.

The first thing he'd picked up had been something that had the only word he'd recognized, his own name. (He also recognized some of the simpler words, like cat or dog, but the handwriting was strange so he could barely catch the letters as it was.)

He didn't know what it was, and he certainly didn't know that it was a letter to him, but it had his name on it, so he figured it was important. The next day he asked the teacher for extra help to learn to read so that he could read his mum's letters. (The teacher in question ranged from quite happy to quite upset over the next several days, though Harry would likely never figure out just why.)

After a month or so he was able to understand almost half the words, and by the end of the first semester he was able to read the whole letter.

It was a letter to him.

It told him all sorts of things. It told him what he was, an _Alicorn_ , just like his mother and his mother's parents and _their_ parents had been, but that his father was human: a _Wizard_ even (which he thought was really cool). And she said that he shouldn't pick one or the other, because he was both and that made him special.

She told him that Alicorn magic was different from human magic, and that he should practice so that he would be good with both.

And she told him what all the books were for.

Some of them were journals, her own as well as those of her parents and her grandfather, who had opened the way for them to come to England a loooong time ago, and that they would help him know about her side of his family.

Later in life he might have thought she'd been rambling a bit in that letter, and perhaps so. She'd written it during a war and, not knowing the outcome of the next battle, she was scared. Scared of dying. Scared of losing everyone in her life. But most of all scared of losing her son, or of not being there for him. She was afraid of him not knowing who he was.

So she told him, in a letter that she hoped he would never see she told him all sorts of things. She told him about her family, who all died when she was very young, and of how the Evans' adopted her, even knowing that she wasn't really human. She told him that they had all been living on borrowed time long before they came to Earth.

She told him that they had a tradition when it came to names, and she told him that he had two names, just like she had.

Her name, given to her by her mother had been Ruby Light, her father Marine (short for Aquamarine) Wind, her mother Sapphire Heart, and her Grandfather Topaz Light.

She told him that his name was Emerald Dream, and that it was because he was her dream, and that she believed in him.

She wanted to be there, she'd hoped she would, and it had been with a bit of shame that she had wrapped her things together and asked her sister to take care of them, that if anything were to happen to her she should give those things to Harry. She didn't want to admit that she could die, it wasn't supposed to be possible for an Alicorn to die, but the fears of her childhood, memories of losing her own parents had haunted her. There were a million more things she'd wanted to say, and she'd already said a million too many. She had only hoped it would never be needed.

But Harry was glad for it. His mother had written him a letter! And all the things in her trunk were so amazing! True, he had focused so much on his mother's letter that it was the only thing he understood right away, but there was so much here, so many things. He'd always feared that he would never have anything of his parents, never know them, but now he had so many things he was sure he would never have enough time to go through them all.

But in the following years he would find the time. He went through it all. Every book, every journal, every letter. He even found his great-grandfather's journal, though he couldn't read it as it was written in Equestrian, which his mother had never had the chance to learn and which he, therefore, would probably _never_ learn. His letters were in English though, and through them he got a picture of a wise, old stallion, the patron of the family despite his ailing health.

None of the letters described _why_ they'd died, or for that matter _how_ other than references to 'it'. 'I can still feel it,' or 'It drains me every day' and 'I have not devined a way to be rid of it'.

His mother was right, they'd been dying long before she was even born. The whole story was there, in their letters to each-other and even his now-dead adoptive grandparents, the Evanses. Much like his mother, his grandparents had written letters to their daughter, and so it went. Harry learned much from the letters and journals, and grew, he hoped, into the fine stallion his mother knew he could be.

And then his world changed again. This time, it was from the world of his father.

And it was a letter.

* * *

End Chapter 1

* * *

Well, here it is, or at least the beginning of it: The MLP/HP cross I alluded to/promised some time ago in that omake. If you remember reading that omake, its events happen several chapters from now. If you didn't read the Omake... er, that's fine. ^^ It was at the end of one of the later chapters of Harry Mewter if you're curious.

For now, have a good night!

Alex Ultra: Do You Feed The Beast?

LATER


	2. You're a Wizard, Harry

Dislcaimer: I dotn' onw it.

(And yes, I mean that Feed The Beast. ;) )

* * *

Ch. 2 You're a Wizard, Harry

* * *

The first time one of the letters came Harry was too shocked to have gotten mail to think about the significance of what he'd received. He'd been too amazed to hide it. From his uncle, from his cousin, and least of all from his aunt, with whom he'd built some amount of rapport over the years. It perhaps wasn't the most open or honest of relationships, but it was far better than he had with the other two members of his family.

Maybe he should have kept that in mind as, when his uncle asked him what 'that' was, he answered honestly.

"It's a letter for me." He'd even sounded amazed to his own ears, let alone anyone that bothered to listen. It was little surprise, then, that Uncle Vernon yanked the mail from his hands, glaring at it as though it were a Harry that had gone poo on the floor.

"This... this!" He turned his attention on Harry, allowing him to see just how much the man's face had started to purple. "You. Don't. Get. Mail!"

"But, I have!"

And then Uncle Vernon _roared!_ "OUT! Out of this kitchen!"

"Let me see!"

"You too, Dudley!"

"Aww, but I wanna see!"

"OUT! OUT RIGHT NOW!"

"But-"

" _NOW!_ " Uncle Vernon pushed Dudley out the kitchen door before closing it loudly behind him, leaving the boy stumped, yet apparently not too upset as he looked at Harry with that oddly superior look.

"What'd you do?"

"What?"

"Must've been pretty bad. Bet you'll get the cane."

"Quiet, I'm trying to hear." Harry matched words to action as he pressed his ear to the door, hearing hushed arguing coming through from the other side.

"What? Move over, I wanna hear!" Matching words to action Dudley promptly pushed Harry out of the way, where he fell unceremoniously on the floor with a muffled **thump.**

"I can't hear anything." Dudley obviously didn't understand the concept of listening in, as instead of being quiet enough to hear his parents arguing, he instead complained loudly about not being able to hear them. "What're they saying?" He then asked the boy he'd just shoved to the floor what was being said on the other side of the door.

Rather than pointing out this silliness, Harry merely sighed, "I don't know. I can't hear them." He had some idea, but really couldn't say, not just because he didn't know and couldn't hear, but because what little he _thought_ he knew he'd promised not to tell Dudley about.

So he waited, watching Dudley try with little success to suss out what the adults were discussing until, finally, the door opened suddenly, allowing Dudley to fall against his father.

"Ow! What'chu do that for!?"

Uncle Vernon merely looked irritated, raising one eyebrow before loudly barking out "Boy!" Once Harry came back to Earth from his sudden jump the man continued, "To your room. No supper. Dudley, finish your supper."

"Ooo! You got in trouble! You got in trouble!"

"Finish your supper!" Once the larger boy was gone, Vernon turned on the retreating Harry, "Your Aunt will discuss this with you later. _Don't_ leave your room."

"Yes, sir."

When Aunt Petunia came to get him from his room later that night, he wasn't really sure what to expect. He knew he wasn't supposed to say anything... unusual to his Uncle Vernon, and that his Aunt also didn't like hearing about it, so he could only imagine that something _magical_ could have gotten such a strong reaction out of either of them.

Perhaps strangely, it didn't even occur to him that having a letter addressed to 'The Cupboard Under The Stairs' was the least bit unusual. He'd never had mail before, after all.

When his door finally opened Harry saw his aunt holding the letter that must have come for him. She waved it impatiently in his face.

"Do you know what this is?"

"I think so."

"It's the letter that killed your mother." Harry's heart jumped in his throat. "She didn't _need_ to go to that place. And when she did, those _people_... You can go, I expect you will. But you will _not_ bring it here except what you have to, and you will _not_ let Dudley see any of it. Understand?" Harry nodded with a gulp at the furious look in his Aunt's eye.

Then, he just _had_ to ask, "Err, Aunt Petunia, how did..."

"How did a letter kill her?" Harry nodded and if anything Aunt Petunia's eyes grew _colder_. "I always knew those people were trouble. From the moment I learned about them, the way they always _hide_ as though they've done something wrong, to the way they erase peoples' memories, who knows what they get up to if they erase all the witnesses' minds? No, it wasn't the letter that killed her, but it put her in that world, and it was that world that killed her."

Harry wondered in that moment just how white he must be, why would he want to go to a place like that? He imagined people like that wouldn't be very nice...

"But if you don't go they'll come looking for you. Lily didn't need to go, they only knew about her being magical much later, but they've known about you all along. Besides, you can't practice it _here_ , so you'll either have to go _there_ or run off somewhere."

That wasn't really a comfort to Harry, but he put it out of his mind. He knew it wasn't quite as bad as his Aunt described, having read his mother's journals, but he also knew that there had been a war going on, and some of the things his mother had written about had indeed been quite dark. Perhaps too dark for a child, but it had been his mother's thoughts so he soaked it up like a sponge.

She'd had much to say about the war, but she'd also been optimistic about the chances for reconciliation. The future was never certain, but she was certain she could make it better.

"We don't have an owl to send a reply with, so we'll have to wait for them to send one, or to send one of the 'teachers' to come fetch you. Until then, you're to start cleaning out Dudley's second room, it will be your room when you return next summer." At Harry's puzzled but hopeful look, she looked down her nose at him and explained, "You won't be able to keep _two_ trunks in here. Besides, it'll be easier to keep Dudley out of that _mess_ if it's at the end of the hall, rather than the end of the stairs."

Harry nearly tackled his aunt with his hug, "Thank you, Aunt Petunia!"

She was quiet for a moment, accepting the gratitude as it was, then returned to being stern, "You will still not allow any such things out of your room. No books. No... _frogs_. Not even a single feather, understood? If I find _anything_ out of place it will all be locked up, understood?" Harry nodded his understanding and Aunt Petunia stood to leave. "You'd best get to work, I want it ready by suppertime tomorrow."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia. What should I do with Dudley's things?"

"Put them in the garage for now. We'll sort them out later."

"Okay." It wasn't much time, but Harry would do his best.

When next a letter came his aunt complained rather animatedly about 'nasty freaks' and owls as 'the owl' had apparently taken off immediately without awaiting a reply, leaving them unable to reply _again_.

Harry rather hoped the 'freaks' were the people that had sent the letter and not the owl itself. From what he understood, the owl was just doing its job.

That night at supper, after Harry had spent _all_ day cleaning out the second bedroom another letter came. And another, and another. And they kept coming, faster and faster until they were literally _flying_ around the dining room like crazed bats angry at the small family for invading their space. The Dursleys were content to shriek and shout, but Harry had a brainwave and ran out the back door.

Once there he was able to see the veritable _cloud_ of owls that had come to deliver all the _letters_. Rather than trying to pick one out, he simply shouted loud as he could over the ruckus, "COULD ONE OF YOU WAIT FOR A REPLY, PLEASE!?"

In response three separate owls landed on the railing of the back porch; they looked at each-other before first the largest, most severe one left its letter and flew off, then the smallest one followed suit.

Bracing against the continued flight of owls, Harry tried to express his gratitude, despite the noise, "THANK YOU. I'LL JUST BE A MOMENT." The owl gave a short nod and Harry retreated to the relative chaos of the house, where the reply letter he'd written up earlier was stashed. He added a hasty addendum 'P.S. Sorry I couldn't reply earlier, we don't have an owl' and returned to the porch to give it to the owl that was, thankfully, still waiting. The owl took the letter in its claw and flew away, just as the last of the regular post owls finished their bombing run, one of which had managed to stuff a letter into Harry's mouth, which complimented nicely with the several that had been stuffed into his shirt and down the back of his trousers.

When Harry got back inside he thought he might reassure his family that the bombardment had ceased, but upon seeing their looks thought it might be better to get to cleaning up instead. As he worked in silence, privately agreeing with his Aunt about 'the nerve of those freaks', he also silently marvelled at the fact that letters had somehow managed to make it to several of the unlikeliest of places, from below the couch (understandable) to INSIDE the flower pot, which still had flowers and water in it and caused the ink to go all runny.

When they were nearly done cleaning up and the letters had been stuffed unceremoniously into a corner to be dealt with later, his Aunt approached him with a rather sour look on her face. "I trust you managed to stop one for your reply?" He nodded the affirmative and if anything, her face got _more_ pinched. "Go to your room. Stay there. No supper." She looked like she was going to say more, then thought better of it and left him to go to his new room at the end of the hall.

As he sat there, he was privately glad his aunt had taken the task of 'dealing with him', as he was sure his uncle would have been far more severe and much less helpful. No matter how curt and clipped her tones, Aunt Petunia was at least more interested in _solving_ problems than in _shouting_ about them.

Later, before his relatives went to bed (and after Dudley was through taunting him from through the door) Aunt Petunia came to him again.

"We'll be gone all tomorrow, we're taking Dudley to the zoo. I expect one of those... _people_ will be coming by to see you. See that you're smartened up beforehand, as they'll likely take you to Lon..." She trailed off just as Harry noticed a light tapping sound.

Turning around, Harry noticed an owl at the sill, tapping the glass. "Is that?"

"See what it wants." Harry did so, letting the bird in and allowing it to hop on his arm.

"Thank you." Once he'd acquired the small letter he unfolded it on his cot so he could get a good look. "They've replied."

 _Dear Mr. Potter,_

 _Please pass on my sincere regrets to you and your family for the tableau earlier today. When your reply wasn't sent the wards at Hogwarts thought your mail might have been intercepted, and is made to send many letters in such an event. I sincerely regret that I nor anyone else thought that you might not have had an owl with you to reply with. I could offer explanations but will make no excuses, instead I shall endeavor to pay more attention in the future._

 _On the matter of your acceptance, thank you. I shall be one of your professors and look forward to seeing you in classes. But for the immediate future, as I imagine you will need assistance in retrieving your school things a member of our faculty has volunteered to see to it. He was a friend of your parents so you will be quite safe with him, though you may need to forgive some of his more... eager personality traits. He should arrive at your home by 10AM tomorrow, though he could arrive earlier._

 _The owl that has delivered this letter belongs to my family and will stay with you until you either arrive at the train for Hogwarts or acquire an owl of your own. She prefers peppered jerky over bacon but if you've neither she, as most owls, can hunt for herself if allowed outside at night. Her name is 'Elmira' and will return to you if you call for her._

 _Again, my apologies for the misunderstanding, thank you for your acceptance, and have a good evening._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall_

 _Deputy Headmistress, Head of Gryffindor House, Transfigurations_

"She says someone will be here early tomorrow, and that she's sorry about the owl, I guess they thought someone was taking my mail?" Aunt Petunia sniffed at that, crossing her arms and not looking very complimentary as she mumbled her response.

"Wouldn't be the first time they'd buggered up from not paying attention. _You_ had better pay proper attention, or we'll pull you right out of there, I assure you!" Harry mumbled his affirmative, then his Aunt huffed, "We'll be leaving first thing. I expect you to be up to see us off. Other than that, just don't make a mess, or allow _them_ to make a mess."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia." With a sigh, he closed the door ( _his_ door!) as his aunt left and turned to the owl, who was now waiting patiently on the railing of his cot. "We don't have any jerky or bacon I can give you, but I promise I'll get you some tomorrow if I can, is that alright?" The owl hooted gently and Harry smiled before frowning worriedly, "Your name is Elmira, right?" The owl hooted again and Harry looked around a bit, as though expecting there to be someone waiting in the corner, watching him. Admittedly, this new room was much larger than he was used to, he was sure it would take a while to get used to.

"Err, can I share a secret with you?" Elmira, rather than hooting fluffed herself up and pushed her chest out rather importantly, which he took as a 'yes'. "Okay." He then collapsed onto all fours with a rather rapid transformation, fluttering his wings as he stretched out. It had been a stressful couple of days and it felt nice to stretch out in his pony form a bit.

Nervously, he tried to gauge Elmira's reaction, but other than a short moment of curiosity she seemed largely bored with his revelation. Harry couldn't decide if that was because she was an animal, and therefore didn't care what he looked like, or if magic was simply common enough that she wasn't surprised.

"Err, I'd like to sleep outside tonight, the last couple of days have been... tiring." He thought that was a good compromise, rather than 'stressful' or 'hard' or anything of the like. He didn't want to _insult_ anyone, but it _had_ been rather tiring. "Would you like to join me?" He flapped his wings just hard enough to get off the floor for a moment before landing gently again.

In response, Elmira flew back to the window and landed on the sill, turning her head to watch him, waiting on him. "Alright, thanks." He used his magic to turn out the lights before quietly making his way to the window, mindful of the noise of his hooves (he had plenty of practice, what with sneaking out at least once a week) and easily leapt out the window, his wings beating forcefully and holding him in a hover just outside.

He closed the window to keep drafts out, then followed Elmira to a copse of trees set between a bunch of houses. Once landed he looked to Elmira and whispered "Follow me" before taking off again, this time for a more protected area further to the edge of Surrey.

He spent the night in the woods with Elmira hunting nearby.

When morning came Harry had a quick snack for breakfast, called Elmira to be sure she knew where he was and returned to the Dursleys' before the sun was up.

Dudley complained mightily about having to get up so early when it was summer, and not even the promise of going to the zoo got him to stop. It wasn't until his friends Piers and Malcolm arrived that he stopped, though now he was set on teasing Harry about not being allowed to come along. Harry was sorely tempted to tell them that he was going to London, but smartly held his tongue. Then after a short time the lot of them had driven off, though not before Aunt Petunia had given him a glare and a reminder to not make a mess and for _God's Sake_ no magic in the house!

Again, he smartly held his tongue about using magic the night before. He would keep that in mind, however.

After that Harry was left alone with the house, and with little to do until the person from Hogwarts came to pick him up. Honestly he was rather excited, whoever it was the letter had said he'd known his parents! Been a friend of theirs, even! Maybe he would have stories!

Of course, he got some stories from his mother's' journals, but other than complaints that James was a bit of a prat he really didn't know much about his father, and even of his mother he only knew what she wrote, not how people saw her.

He hadn't been waiting for very long when something told him that his escort had arrived. That something was a booming **knock** that reverberated through the house and shook the floor. A second one came soon after and Harry nervously looked to the flower vases, checking that they wouldn't fall off their settings. Quickly he shouted "Coming!", hoping that doing so would stop the knocking and prevent any accidents.

It seemed to have, though now another loud sound came from through the door. "Harry?" It was a man's voice, sounding a tad lost as though he couldn't believe what he were saying. "'S that you?"

"Yes it's me! I'll just be a moment!" Quickly straightening what the minor earthquake had knocked ajar, Harry hurried to the door and pulled it open.

To be greeted by a mountain of a man... who also looked like he might be a mountain man, what with an oversized coat (a minor miracle, that, considering how big the man himself was) and the overgrown beard that looked as though it'd never been shaved. As soon as they made eye contact the man's coal black eyes brightened like a child's and he smiled with an exultant shout. "Harry! Good ter see yeh!" He reached down, presumably to pick Harry up (for a hug?), but when Harry reflexively stepped back he stopped, looking apologetic. "Ah, sorry there, guess'n yeh don' remember me. Is jus', I ain't seen yeh since yeh were a baby. I'm jus so glad ter see yeh again."

Harry smiled, trying to placate the man, "No! It's alright, just surprised me is all." Besides, a man _that_ big couldn't _help_ but be intimidating, at least a little. He seemed nice enough, though.

The man smiled pleasantly, looking him over. "Yeh look jus like yer dad. Skinnier, a bit, the Dursleys've been feeding you alrigh'?" Not really wanting to go there, Harry nodded. "Good, good. Well, even if you got lots o' James in yeh, you've got yer mum's eyes... maybe 'er nose, too, now I think of it."

Honestly Harry wasn't sure how to deal with attention like this. He wanted to hear about his parents, he really did, but being told he _looked_ like them wasn't... interesting? Somehow it wasn't really what he was hoping to hear.

Still, he needed to be polite. "Are you from Hogwarts, sir?"

"Blimey, I forgot t' interduce meself!" The man drew himself up importantly, putting his hands to his belt as though he needed to hold his pants up. "Name's Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. Eh," he relaxed a bit so he looked quite a bit more humble, "Yeh can just call me Hagrid, though, ev'r'one else does."

"Alright."

"Well, I suppose if'n ye'r ready we can head off t' London. Lots ter do. Ready?"

"Yes, of course!" Smiling, Harry closed the door and left with the man, hoping he could get some stories on the way.

The way to London was indeed interesting, and Harry did get a story or so, but it was also far shorter than he'd been expecting. Hagrid had raised his umbrella at some random crosswalk and out of nowhere a great, bouncing bus appeared with a deafening **crack!** Once they were on it leapt off with another **crack!** and proceeded to throw the two of them around the cabin with an almost maddened fervor. The trip to London was so short that Hagrid barely had the time to tell Harry that his parents had been Head Boy and Girl before they arrived.

Once they left the bus (and a bit of Hagrid's money) behind, they entered a grungy old pub.

"'S'most famous pub in Magical Engl'nd, s'how y' get t' Diagon Alley." As Hagrid was saying this, the man behind the bar waved cheerfully.

"Afternoon, Hagrid! Come in for a pint?"

"Nah, Tom, Hogwarts business. Showin' a new stud'nt the alley." Hagrid put his hand on Harry's back, making to push him gently along, but Harry was looking the man's direction long enough for him to get a good look.

"Blimey! Is that Harry Potter?"

"No way, is it?"

"It is!"

"Does he have the scar?"

"He does!" Before Harry could even think of backing off or trying to hide, a veritable crowd of people swarmed around him, some wanting to shake his hand, others demanding to see the scar on his forehead (apparently to prove he was who he said he was? Weirdly, as he hadn't yet managed a word...), but most just crowded around, seemingly just to get close to him.

Hagrid initially seemed flummoxed by the sight, but after several seconds started trying to worm his way into the crowd. Now Hagrid was quite a large man to begin with, so being so easily pushed to the side was a mite unusual for him, but once he had his wits about him he made rapid progress through the rather unrepentant crowd, who actually complained about being pushed aside.

Hagrid, however, was not the one that finally got them to disperse. "BACK! Get DOWN yeh rabid dogs! Give the boy some space, you sorry lot!" The barkeeper, after inadvertently starting the rather sorry display, nearly jumped the bar to wrestle back some semblance of control, throwing stinging hexes as easily as insults until the crowd had backed off, most going back to their seats.

Once the bar had quieted down a bit, the man turned to Harry, smiling a smile missing several teeth, "Sorry 'bout that." He frowned, looking back at the diners, "Drunk people haven't any control 'till you beat it into 'em, sometimes." Most of those present had the sense of mind to look ashamed.

Hagrid, though, looked puzzled. "Drunk at ten in th' mornin'?"

The barkeep laughed suddenly, looking Hagrid in the eye, "There's always drunks in a bar, Hagrid, even at ten in the mornin'." In truth, only a few of them were actually drunk, but it was a nice excuse. "Now get goin, before one o' this lot gets any ideas."

"Right, thanks Tom. C'mon, Harry." Harry nodded, waving behind him as he followed his guide.

So far Harry didn't have much of a high opinion of these people. He'd been inundated with letters, which his Aunt felt had killed his mother, thrown violently about a bus, and now crowded around like some kind of holy idol. He rather hoped things would get better soon, else he might just say 'forget it' and go off to live in the woods the rest of his life.

When Hagrid tapped a brick in the alley behind the pub, Harry goggled at the movements of the other bricks as they slid and folded away, until the sight beyond drew his attention even further.

There were people there, but that wasn't what drew his attention. It was all just so _colorful_! Not to mention lively. There was movement no matter where you looked; signs and banners and pictures, all moving and brightly colored, trying to draw the eye. He noticed a shop for potions ingredients, a shop for books, even a shop for plants and another for animals, both of which he'd determined he would visit.

Hagrid allowed him a few moments of boggling at the sight before drawing his attention again, "C'mon 'arry, best get t'the bank firs'."

Nodding, Harry followed along, trying not to get in anyone's way, which was made easier by the split in the crowd that Hagrid made with his bulk, simply by nature of being there.

It wasn't long before they'd made their way to the bank in question, and Harry had a chance to mumble about the greeting outside being rather ominous.

"Fer theives. Ye'd be mad ter try ter steal from Goblins." Harry didn't really have anything to say to that, so he merely nodded to the two beings, presumably Goblins, standing at the sides of the entryway as they passed through it. If they noticed, they failed to react; he supposed they were probably used to it, standing by a doorway and all.

Once indoors the air became a bit chillier, though that was probably on purpose as it was a bit warm outside, but it also seemed slightly claustrophobic for some reason, despite being quite a large space. It didn't bother him, of course, but ever since realizing he could fly he'd found that he preferred to be able to see the sky over not.

Once at a teller Hagrid managed to make a scene when some mice escaped from his pockets. Harry got the distinct impression the Goblin behind the counter was somewhat annoyed, and couldn't blame him.

"Couldn't you have had it in hand _before_ asking the teller?" Harry whispered, referring to the key that was apparently his anyway.

The large man had the decency to blush at that, handing over the key for inspection, "Sorry 'bout tha', don't get t' the bank much." If anything the teller's face got slightly _more_ pinched at this admission, though he seemed satisfied at the key.

Shouting something at the space behind him, the Goblin turned to Harry, speaking while giving him a queer look. "Griphook will see you to your vault. Don't touch anything you aren't instructed to."

"Yes sir, thank you."

The rest of the trip through the bank was just as his mother had described it, though Hagrid getting a bit ill hadn't been mentioned, obviously. Indeed, the whole process of acquiring his school things went to plan without a hitch, though he did run across a number of other apparent students out to retrieve supplies.

When it came to potions ingredients the proprietor had to assure him that the Unicorn Horns were 'naturally sourced' as, for some reason, Unicorns in England lost their horns every year like Stags did, whereas Equestrians didn't. Or at least he hadn't lost _his_ so far, and his mother didn't mention any such thing.

She had mentioned the Unicorns that lived near Hogwarts castle, but left out that little detail.

The final stop of the day had been to retrieve a wand, which Hagrid made sure to tell him he couldn't actually use for anything until he'd actually turned eleven, which was only a couple of days away anyway.

It was, perhaps, a bit unsurprising that it was the wands with Unicorn Tail Hair in them that gave him the strongest reactions, though one with a Dragon Heartstring and another with a Phoenix Feather also gave him an unusually strong reaction. Mr. Ollivander, the slightly creepy proprietor, mentioned that his mother was similar, powerful with any wand, more-so with those connected to Unicorns.

He'd asked about Pegasi, but apparently wands made with such feathers were really only good for making things fly. They were flatly unbeatable for enchanting flying brooms, but not much else.

Apparently, his mother had asked that question, as well.

The wand they'd finally settled on was "Ash, eleven and three-quarters inches, springy, Unicorn Tail Hair, from an especially impressive mare, if I remember correctly."

"Is.. was this made recently?"

"Oh? No, no. The mare in question should be long gone by now, I should think."

This disappointed Harry, but he supposed he couldn't help it any more than Mr. Ollivander could; Hagrid simply seemed happy to have gotten things done.

Once they were done they headed back out through the Leaky Cauldron and took the Knight Bus back to Little Whinging, whereupon Harry begged Hagrid to stick around for a little while longer, which Hagrid was happy to oblige, regaling Harry of stories of his parents; especially of the Marauders and what little he remembered of Lily's childhood friend, who was now Potions Professor at Hogwarts.

Hearing of the man that had once been his mother's best friend, Harry resolved to attempt correspondence with the man; hoping for more about his mother, perhaps about Hogwarts, but especially about the concerns Aunt Petunia had brought up.

If the Magical World had killed his mother, why should he involve himself in it?

At first he had no idea how his letters, nor his concerns were being taken. He'd only sent two before stopping, hoping to get a reply before he felt it safe to send another.

And then, mercifully, just two days before he was to get to London to go to Hogwarts, he got a letter...

* * *

End Chapter 2

* * *

I think my favorite line in this chapter is 'as though it were a Harry that had gone poo on the floor'.

Alex Ultra: Surviving the Ark

LATER


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